Suz’s lips curl into an evil grin as Lian and I nod, though I have to admit I am getting the best end of this deal. Marshall always smells nice. Wearing his jersey won’t be as bad as Lian having to go out with Steve.
26 Played
Lori
I’m a ball of nerves between watching the guys who didn’t come to the wedding hit on her and everyone else touch her. I wanna break skulls.
Mike Roscoe and I already had words about him touching her ass.
What is wrong with me?
Why is this girl killing me?
Even worse, why can’t I get over it? It was a couple of quick fucks.
Maybe I should fuck someone else.
That’s what I’ll do. Instead of pouting in my apartment over Jenny and the playoffs, I’ll spend the weekend getting lit with Carson and fuck shit up.
We line up for the second period and I relax a bit, seeing the older guy as their center. This is their second line, who couldn’t beat a team of ten-year-olds, and Jenny isn’t on it. The puck drops and before any of us is ready, the center slides the puck to the forward who jumps to life, skating past Matt and Cap. He weaves in and out of our defense, blowing past Brady.
“Get on him!” Cap shouts but there’s no chance. Before we catch up, the horn is blowing and the goal is counted. The forward skates past me, and for a second I swear the face doesn’t match the lineup or the jersey.
I do a double take, turning around and watching him skate away.
Fixing my stare on the forward, I skate up to the line to watch the puck drop.
Something’s off.
I scan the bench for Red but I can’t tell if she’s there.
The puck drops and again the center passes to the forward but this time Cap’s ready. He steals it from their team and spins, tapping it through the legs of the center who is slow. He smacks the puck and sends it down the line to me. I carve left, flicking it up into the right corner of the goal, but the goalie snatches it out of the air. It’s the first move from him we’ve seen all game.
He hands the puck to the ref and Cap offers me a look, one suggesting he also has no idea what is happening. The goalie seems different and their line is quiet. No joking or teasing.
The face-off is fast again and this time we win the puck. Matt hands it off to Brady who takes a shot. Goalie snaps it out of the air with almost no effort.
The crowd is going nuts. Music is booming. I’m lost.
We skate down—our four minutes is up—switching lines but they don’t change.
“That goalie got some lessons in the dressing room.” Brady nudges me and steals my water bottle.
“Something’s off. I swear one of them who was a chubby guy is a girl now. But I didn’t see any hair so I couldn’t tell if it was Red or the little blonde who scored.”
“Yeah, that goalie was holding back,” Cap agrees. “Maybe it’s a pro, and they don’t have the real name on the jersey. They’re messing with us.”
“Permission to engage?” Brady asks smugly.
“No contact, no slap shots.” Cap glances out at the ice. “If they wanna mess around, we can bring the game to them.”
The line changes. The boys come in puffing but successful. Their line scored once.
We jump out and skate into the play. Matt and Cap go for the action. I stay in line with the puck, waiting for the pass.
Matt doesn’t pass. He gets a breakaway and skates hard, taking a shot so close to being a slap we all wince, but the goalie snags it like it’s nothing. He tosses it into the air and nods at Matt, cocky.
The moment the puck’s in play again I get it at the boards, bringing it center, weaving and faking, looking for the pass. Cap’s open. I fake and slide it to him. He flicks and the goalie blocks it with his pads. Cap tries for the second shot, but it’s deflected again, this time in the direction of one of the other team’s players. The little fast guy. He snags it, passing down to another guy who skates hard, crossing center and passing back to the little guy. They play well, faster and sharper than anyone else on the team. They have to be pros. We’re being punked.
That chaps my ass. I push myself, flying down the ice as the little guy takes his shot. He fakes and hits it to his teammate who shoots and scores. They jump into each other’s arms, hugging and—they’re fucking girls!
Fuck!
It’s Red and Blondie and they’ve faked us out with a new jersey and line change.
Jenny has her hair pulled so tight against her head you can’t see it in the helmet. So does Blondie. She skates past me, flashing a smile and the slightest hint of that red hair.
“That’s the girls, isn’t it?” Brady growls.
I nod, mouth once again hanging open and total confusion plaguing me.
“Son of a bitch! They stacked their line,” he snarls and turns to line up for the drop.
But this time we’re ready for them.
Cap gets the puck at center, passing it hard to Matt, landing it dead middle on the blade of his stick. Matt passes directly to me. I skate hard, handing off to Mike Number One. He passes to Brady who takes the shot. It’s a slap. He doesn’t hold back at all. The puck flies at net but the goalie is some kind of ninja. He reaches out and blocks, deflecting it off a pad. The puck goes soaring into the boards and is grabbed by their team.
Ref blows the whistle.
“No slap shots! Penalty for the visitors. Who’s taking the shot?”
Jenny skates over. “I will.”
Brady looks like he might eat her but Cap skates over to give him a talking to. I
